


Memories of the One I Fancy

by WadaFics



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Each Chapter is Rated, Fluff, Light Angst, Lots of Mushy Cliches, M/M, One Shot Collection, Please take my random one shots about these two dorks, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre & Established Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), ferdibert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WadaFics/pseuds/WadaFics
Summary: Throughout the years, Ferdinand and Hubert have created a plethora of memories. Each one is special, reflecting a different point of their gradual romance.This will be a collection of my  FerdiBert Ficlets that I post onto Twitter. I will collect them all together here for others to enjoy my short one-shots that do not become full stories. Some are canon, some are AUs. Enjoy!
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 24
Kudos: 84





	1. By Your Bedside

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy my silly little snippets that enter my brain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand had been poisoned, and Hubert stays by his side in the Infirmary.  
> Rated G

Hubert heaves a heavy sigh as he looked over to check if there were any changes in Ferdinand’s condition. He is disappointed to see that the man was still fast asleep. He had been for the past three days, and Hubert has not left his side except when forced. He felt responsible for this. If only he had been quicker, had noticed the mage that slipped through the smoke and fog and poisoned Ferdinand with a wicked curse. As soon as he had been hit, Hubert had summoned a force of miasma so powerful that it left a rift in the ground, and no trace of the man had been left. The others had been frightened by such a massive display of power, even Edelgard had been slightly shocked by the outburst.

Yet, none of that mattered. He hadn’t been able to stop him before the damage was done. All he could do was wait. He stayed by Ferdinand until one of the nurses, like Manuela, kicked him out. Even then, he never slept well. He was worried sick about him, and he knew why deep down. It wasn’t something he wanted to ever admit, but his softness for Ferdinand in the past years had grown into more than mere acquaintanceship or even friendship.

Oh no, he had grown infatuated with the man. Ferdinand was truly a good man. Devoted to his cause. Faithful to his friends. Prideful and yet, able to accept his own shortcomings. And so compassionate and full of hope. A hope that even made a cynical nonbeliever like Hubert feel as if this world actually has a purpose. So, it wasn’t fair that Ferdinand had to suffer. Hubert wished to be in his place. He felt he didn’t deserve to be well, since he wasn’t the type of man who inspired others like Ferdinand did.

His gentle green eyes drift back towards the bed, and he stares at the soft expression on Ferdinand’s face. It looked so pale compared to its usual glow, but he could still see the faint freckles that scattered his cheeks. He so desired to touch him, but that was wrong. His selfish desires were not to ever be shared. Still, he smiles sadly and speaks quietly to himself as Ferdinand shifts in the bed, hair falling on his face.

“Our nurses tell me that you will make a full recovery; that you need only rest and time for the curse to run through your body. And yet, I…I cannot leave your side. I fear the worst when I see you in such a ragged state. It is disheartening, and I fear it is making my own health suffer from mere worry. How pathetic I am.”

He chuckles nervously, going to brush away a lock of hair from the other’s face. “I am loathed to say that I could not fathom the thought of losing your presence. You are a clever strategist. You inspire the masses to our cause. You fight fiercely in battle. You are an important asset to the empire in this war, bloody as it is. Yet, you are more than that….” His hands scrunch up into fists, his chest growing tight with a dull ache.

“I believe I have become a fool for you….so hung up on your words and the way you enchant me. Even now,…I would give away my health to see your smile again. It is one of your best features-” He hears footsteps in the hall, so he stops and sits back in silence. He’s grateful his blubbering would never reach Ferdinand’s ears.


	2. A Question of Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert goes to Edelgard to raise his concerns about his recent distraction from his loyalty to her.  
> Rated G

“My lady, I am distressed to admit I have encountered a failure upon my service.” Hubert states as he quietly takes a seat in Edelgard’s study. He fiddles with a button on his coat and sighs.

“Oh? That is quite unlike you, Hubert. Please, explain further. Is this a major issue I should be concerned with?” She responds calmly, looking up from the paper work on her desk.

“Yes, I fear it directly correlates with the safety of the Empire and your own life.” Hubert responds with sincerity, his expression perplexed.

“Hmm, you have piqued my interests. Please, what issue has arose that is such a threat to our cause? Was there a slip up in your spy network?” Her voice has genuine concern now. She never knew Hubert to make such a dire mistake. She sits up more and listens closely as Hubert starts to explain further.

“No, nothing like that. As I stated, it is my own shortcoming. I…I have reason to believe I am being short sighted towards my devotion to you, Edelgard. I fear that my recent….correspondence with other associates is perhaps becoming too great of an effect on my performance as your servant. I believe I may need to refrain from certain interactions to assure your well-being.”

There is silence. Hubert feels hot under his collar as Edelgard merely stares at him with minor irritation behind her eyes. Her eyebrow quirks at him quizzically.

“Goddess, Hubert. Are you jesting with me?”

“Huh? Why, of course not, your Majesty. I merely believe I have grown too….attached to other engagements that may impede my service.” To this statement, Edelgard sighs dramatically and focuses back on the work at her desk.

“You are allowed to continue your dates with Ferdinand. I am in no danger. I swear, your mind is a mystery and works strangely.” She shakes her head and Hubert coughs and goes utterly red in the cheeks.

“They are umm….not dates, but weekly meetings over tea to discuss politics-”

“Leave my quarters, Hubert.”

“As you wish.” He mumbles and awkwardly shuffles out.


	3. Sleepy Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert admires the way Ferdinand looks in the early hours of the morning.  
> Rated G

_Today is a beautiful day to think about soft, sleepy Ferdinand waking up to see his beloved Hubert gently fiddling with his hair..._

Hubert was too afraid to disturb him from his sleep, so he merely gazed and admired him as the sun slowly crept in through the window. He is no rush to wake up or leave the comforts of their shared bed.

Everything about this moment is warm. The bundled sheets, the rising sun peeking through, and of course, the heat from Ferdinand as he presses further into his body. The two sleep in many different positions, but Hubert has a secret favorite; when he is curled into his lover’s inviting, secure chest and wrapped up in his strong embrace, he never feels more alive. Never would he have imagined being able to trust another person to this extent, to be able to fall asleep so effortlessly and feel cherished.

As Ferdinand gradually wakes up, rubbing at the sleepiness in his eyes, he offers a tired smile and soft kiss upon Hubert’s forehead. He has no words just yet, unable to articulate the feeling he has when the two of them lie together like this. In all the years that he has known Hubert, he never looked more relaxed than when he just awoke or fell asleep. The stress melts off his face, leaving only soft features of a man who deserved to finally smooth the sharp edges he’s acquired through his lifetime.

In response to the tender peck upon his head, Hubert scoots closer and begins to press kisses across each freckle on Ferdinand’s cheeks. The faint laughter and dusting of pink upon his face makes Hubert’s heart swell with pure adoration. He only stops once he is satisfied that each freckle has been properly kissed.

Meeting each other’s gazes, Ferdinand invades the small space between them and places a gentle kiss on his lips, and he allows the two of them to share a handful of slow, tender kisses as they gradually wake up. There are formal duties to attend to, but for now, all that mattered was this moment together.


	4. Soft as Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert is off on one of his secret missions, and he missed his husband dearly.  
> Rated G

Returning to the hidden campsite, Hubert wonders if he should have been more careful this evening. While they had the advantage upon their enemy, waiting to ambush them during a moment of weakness, their forces had been more powerful than he had anticipated. In fact, they had called for rather substantial backup forces, which had nearly been too much. Yet, pushing through the injuries he had taken, he was able to lead his rather elite, small squadron to victory without any fatal losses.

Yet, he and a few others had suffered nasty injuries. Hubert could feel the effects this had on his body, his hands trembling from the overwhelming plethora of magic he had used to fight back. His breathing was labored while he laid his head down, staring at the blank tent walls. He had suffered a few cuts and scrapes, but his main issue was being hit with a powerful blast of miasma. How strange it felt to be cursed and punished with the very magic he used on a daily basis. 

Coughing into his hand, he hacks his bruised lungs until a few specks of blood sprinkle against the dirtied white fabric. Wiping his mouth with the back of his glove, he pulls them off and stares at his magic stained fingers, still suffering from the occasional tremble from the aftershocks of magic fatigue. He believes the tainted skin would spread further as a result of today. He feels a small pang of regret at such a frivolous thing, merely because these hands weren’t just for mindless bloodshed anymore.

His eyes flicker to the red ribbon tied tightly around his wrist peeking from under his coat’s sleeve. He pulls at the knot, and it unravels easily, likely from the turmoil of battle. He holds the simple red silk ribbon in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth fabric. Taking in a slow inhale of air, ignoring the ache of his lungs, he lets his mind wander off to a softer place.

In his mind, he can paint a picture of his husband. He can see his dazzling smile, friendly eyes, and the bountiful curls of orange hair that frame his handsome face. He can hear the sound of his laughter after sharing a playful story from his last excursion out of the estate. He can recall the softness of his voice as it carries a gentle aria, reciting it as Hubert runs a brush through his hair in the early morning. 

He gets a hint of something sweet, the scent of his favorite fruit blend tea or a new perfume that he had been gifted and felt obliged to wear at least once or twice. (Although he loathed the random gifts the Prime Minister got from power hungry fools, he did appreciate the faint scent when he would bury his face into his shoulder after a long day, nose tickled by his hair.) 

Lastly, he can feel warmth against his back as Ferdinand presses up against him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nudging his face into his back. Such a lovely embrace, begging him to stay a few more minutes longer before leaving for some boring meeting or task. The pressure of the other’s lips against his mouth is tender, so pleasant and inviting as it charms him to return to their bedroom for a few minutes longer.

Another wretched cough shocks him from such sunny thoughts, sitting up and hunching over as he spits out more blood into his hand. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the stinging of his throat and the way his chest burns like fire. His only solace is opening his eyes to look at that pretty, little ribbon in his palm. He tightens his grip on it and pulls it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the red scrunched fabric. 

Everything he did was to ensure that this world was somewhere he could continue to shine. A world where he could work alongside Her Majesty and remove the barriers that kept others shackled or in the dark. No ignorant fools or brainwashed bastards would get in the way of their shared dream. If he had to spend a thousand nights like this, feeling sore and exhausted in some crummy makeshift campsite; it would be worth it. 

Worth it to return home and hear him exclaim his name with such joy, able to melt away all the blood and heavy sins that weighed down upon his shoulders. Hence, he clenches his fingers around the ribbon and tries to find rest in his heartfelt memories of Ferdinand.


	5. Good Luck Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before every battle, Ferdinand goes to see his personal good luck charm that helps strengthens him for combat.  
> Rated G

There was always a heavy feeling in the air before a battle. A sort of trepidation that lingers and settles within the hearts of those who are unprepared for the savagery of warfare. Although Ferdinand was a man who was incredibly powerful upon the field with his spear in hand and well beloved mount, he still was susceptible to pre-battle jitters like any other soldier. It was only natural to have some apprehension in one’s heart before a fight; it only became an issue if you let your fears overcome your ability to stay vigilant in the middle of the action.

However, Ferdinand was able to balance out a healthy amount of concern to keep cautious, but also daring enough to keep pushing forward with the attack to lead his men into the fray. How did he learn such remarkable control of his emotions and nerves? Well, he had a secret ritual that he performed before each battle to ensure that victory would be swift. While some may have their prayers to the Goddess or unique quirks with articles of clothing or jewelry to bring luck upon their side, Ferdinand had something far superior.

Before lining up and spreading out with their various battalions, Ferdinand was quick to trot over to where he knew his personal good luck charm would be waiting at the moment. As expected, the studious mage was currently looking over a map with their projected plan of attack for the umpteenth time this morning, which was not including the hundreds of times he had done so with Ferdinand and Edelgard beforehand. Yet, there was something charming about his dedication to his craft.

Marching forward, a few of his men dispersed as they heard the foretelling sound of hooves approaching their little makeshift campsite. Slowing down until he stops right in front of his lover, Ferdinand flashes a bright smile at a rather tired Hubert. He hopes that he was getting enough sleep, even though he knew very well that Hubert often had restless nights right before an upcoming battle. He might not show any signs of apprehension upon the field, but he was still a mortal man.

“Ah. Going over the plans once more? I feel pity for your men. They must be bored out of their wits to hear the same strategy repeated over and over.” He says this with mirth in his voice, playfully quirking a brow in his direction.

“Perhaps. Though it is better to be bored than dead, Ferdinand.” Hubert replies dryly, but there is the faintest curve to his rather stiff upper lip. It was the sort of minuscule detail that Ferdinand had come to notice and adore from his partner.

A gentle laugh comes from Ferdinand, and the sound helps to loosen the tension that has settled within Hubert’s muscles. He seems less stiff, even if the expression was still rather indifferent. The sense of humor Hubert held was a bit dark to say the least, but it still amused Ferdinand from time to time.

“Of course. I will not argue such a fact. Your results speak for themselves, so I do not challenge the way you lead your battalions.” He pauses and reaches a hand down, stretching until he grabs onto the fabric of Hubert’s shirt. “However, I have not come here to talk strategy. I came for this.”

Leaning down and pulling Hubert upwards, the two meet for a vigorous kiss. Hubert is stunned as always, his eyes fluttering before shutting tight from the force of Ferdinand’s kiss. He can feel himself standing upon the tips of his toes, nearly lifted off the ground as Ferdinand held him with merely one arm. It sets off a plethora of emotions within his guts, both pleasant in the warmth of Ferdinand’s affections and also unease with the sensation of nearly being weightless.

One is not enough, and Ferdinand keeps himself hunched over as he lays a string of kisses upon Hubert’s lips. Each one gains more pressure, piling up the reserved amounts of affection that have built within Ferdinand when the two were apart during battle preparations. He could not go out onto the field with his mind cluttered by such unanswered sentiments. Besides, he never felt more energized for battle than after receiving a kiss from his beloved.

Nearly bruising Hubert’s poor lips with his enthusiasm, Ferdinand slowly sets him down on his feet and pulls away from his mouth. He catches his breath, gaining air back within his lungs and a charming grin upon his face. There was truly nothing to compare the burst of confidence and strength Ferdinand felt after sharing a kiss with Hubert before an attack.

“Your assistance is much appreciated, Hubert. I thank you for helping me prepare for the upcoming encounter.” Ferdinand spoke cheekily, admiring the pink that has settled upon his lover’s pale cheeks.

“I suppose I am… glad to be of service.” Hubert pauses, a faint smile finding its way upon his lips. “As long as you keep your end of the bargain and do not fall upon the field.”

Ferdinand rolls his eyes, tightening his hands around the reigns of his horse and turning her back towards the direction he had come from. Although the cynicism was there in an attempt to disguise it, Ferdinand appreciates the concern of Hubert for his well-being. Hubert was not the type to simply tell Ferdinand to “be careful” like a normal person, so Ferdinand makes do with what he can get.

“Have I ever given you concern that I would not? I am not a man who breaks promises or deals.” Ferdinand offers a final nod and wave towards him. “I will see you shortly, dear.”

* * *

When the battle comes to its end, it is another remarkable triumph for the Empire. It seemed with every passing day that the tides were turning for Edelgard and her dream. It was truly only a matter of time before all of their tireless work could be put to rest on the realization of a bright future to be built.

Ferdinand had dismounted from his horse, feeling victorious as he wiped a blood splatter from his cheek. It had been a rather gruesome excursion, but only because he had fought with such ferocity and passion. While Ferdinand has always been a skilled cavalier, there was truly a spark in his performance upon the field this evening. Cutting down all those within his path, Ferdinand had certainly stained his armor and his enemies in a vivid shade of crimson without a second for remorse.

Impressed with such a display of power, Caspar had come barreling over towards Ferdinand once they were clear of all foes. He marched up with a goofy grin, smacking Ferdinand on his back a couple of times with a little too much force to be friendly. But this is a common occurrence with Caspar, as everything about him is just a tad bit too much. He means well though, and their entire little “family” adored him regardless.

“Woah! You were AMAZING out there, Ferdinand! I have never seen you take down that many enemies so swiftly and efficiently. It was...incredible! How did you get so strong?!” Caspar beams at him, his excitement pouring out and infecting all those who got within a certain radius of him.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Ferdinand laughs and gains a light blush upon his cheeks. It felt rather nice to be so exuberantly complimented for his battle prowess. He spent much time training and honing his skills, and he was grateful to get a little recognition from time to time.

“Ahh, thank you, Caspar. I promise it is nothing special. I merely train, same as you.” He can see that his answer does not satisfy Caspar’s curiosity.

“Aw, man! C’mon! Lighten up. What is the big secret? I want to keep getting stronger, too!” He nudges him with his elbow, and Ferdinand chuckles at his persistence. It was a quality that was admirable, but rather irksome at times as well.

“Fine, but it is no secret. It is merely the power of love that guides me!” Ferdinand is proud as he speaks these words, his eyes shining with sincerity. He was not trying to joke about the matter, but was indeed citing his unparalleled performance to that of infatuation, much to Caspar’s dismay.

“Erm...what?” He does not get the chance to say anything else as Ferdinand is suddenly filled with a renewed sense of passion.

“Before each battle…” He begins to explain, scanning the area until his eyes land upon a shadowy figure in the distance. He points over in the direction of Hubert, a smirk filling his features as he announces the next part haughtily. “I am certain to share a kiss with that man! It strengthens me in a manner that no training had ever come close to. I feel ready to take on an entire army myself afterwards. It is… wonderful!”

As Ferdinand gushes about the effects of Hubert’s kiss upon his combat tactics, he ogles the man from across the field with eyes glossed over with a yearning for more of his magic. He begins to walk back to his horse, giving her a few gentle scratches before hoisting himself back upon the saddle. He was clearly determined, which Caspar can only groan about and shake his head.

“Ughhh-- I should have guessed you were going to make up some garbage about Hubert.” Caspar huffs, frustrated as Ferdinand is properly mounted upon his steed once more. “Maaaaan, why do you two have to be so… so ‘you’ all the time!”

Yet, his complaints fall upon deaf ears as Ferdinand is already preparing to set off toward Hubert. He glances down at Caspar, feigning a sudden sickness. He places a hand upon his forehead, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh my, I fear I may be feeling weak all of a sudden. I might have overexerted myself during the fight.” Ferdinand sets both hands back upon the reigns and locks his eyes upon his target. “I must remedy this as quickly as I can. Farewell, Caspar!”

Heart skipping a beat faster at the promise of celebratory kiss, Ferdinand begins to ride across towards Hubert at a hastened pace. It was for his health after all. The magic of their prior kiss had worn off from the weariness of combat, and Ferdinand needed to be enchanted once more.


	6. Sleepless Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of the night, Ferdinand can not sleep and comes to converse with Hubert about his doubts by the fire.  
> Rated G

A crackling fire roars with life, providing the only source of light underneath the barren sky. While most nights usually provided minor illumination with a sprinkling of the stars upon the horizon, there was none to be seen behind the rolling clouds that had settled upon the skyline. If Hubert were a more superstitious man, he would take such a sign to be a bad omen. 

But he is not so frivolous to believe in such baseless notions. These sorts of ideas were spread to scare children into staying within their homes and obeying their parents without any tedious resistance. A tactic that pulls the wool over their eyes and fills their young, naive brains with nonsensical stories to allow adults the peace of mind that their children would not mindlessly wander upon a cold, dreary night. 

Smart. Yet, also unfavored by the mage. He was not above using trickery to gain what he needed in his endeavors from foes. But to choose fear -- out of all options -- to ensure obedience within a loved one? It was not a style that suited Hubert’s taste. It reminded him of how the teachings of Serios worked between the “Archbishop” and her disciples. 

Disgraceful. 

His train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a shifting tent and footsteps coming from behind. He quickly turns his head back, eyes landing upon the sight of Ferdinand in nothing but his linen sleep shirt and a pair of loose, brown trousers. He is rather confused by his presence. The sight of him in such casual wear for rest stirs something within his gut that he would examine at a later date.

“Ah. Ferdinand, I am surprised to see you awake at such a late hour. Should you not be getting your proper rest? We have much ground to make as we progress towards the Leicester Alliance” He keeps his voice low, not wishing to startle any of their companions awake. There was still much time before the sun would rise and foretell the dawning of a new day. 

“I am aware, but it is alright. I was--” Ferdinand lets his voice fade for a moment as he considers his words. “...unable to rest.” He sits beside Hubert and leaves a small amount of space between them. He rests his hand between them, staring blankly upon the flames that are fueled by the gusts of bitter wind that send a chill down Ferdinand’s spine. The material of his current clothing was much thinner than that of his usual armor and wardrobe. 

Hubert nods in response, allowing the conversation to end there for the moment. When he tears his gaze from the fire, he finds himself taking a closer look to the side profile of Ferdinand before him. His appearance was disheveled. The hair that usually was perfectly brushed into smooth, soft looking perfection was frazzled. Pieces stuck out from all different directions, and he could make out a few tangled knots within the orange curls. 

His face, dimly lit by the flickering fire, has a residual exhaustion lying within his gaze and soft bags under his heavily lidded eyes. It is an expression he has seen rarely upon the other. Ferdinand was known for being a shining beacon within their forces. He commanded respect and power; he earned it with his incredible wit, strength, and charisma. 

Yet, tonight he sits beside him with an air of fatigue settled into his bones. Hubert knows that everyone needed time to regain back their spirit or stamina, and Ferdinand was no exception. He rubbed at his eyes and felt a yawn rising from his chest, exhaling it with a muted breath.

“I may not be the best company for sentiments, but if you desired to possibly discuss the reasoning behind your lack of sleep. I can offer an ear.” Hubert’s words are delicate, an invitation to allow Ferdinand to release some of the pressure that has built within his chest with each passing day during this march. 

A moment of silence pervades as Ferdinand glances over at Hubert to judge the sincerity of his proposal. He was completely serious. How utterly sweet for a man who claimed to not care for his comrades. 

Hubert was a fantastic liar to strangers, but not to the loved ones he held secret within his heart.

“It is nothing worth discussing.” Ferdinand starts, catching the furrowing of Hubert’s brow in disbelief. He knew better than to try and withhold the truth from a man such as Hubert, for he always knew of the doubt that is tucked away behind his cordial smile. 

“Discuss it. I shall be here upon night watch. You might as well provide some chatter if you are going to distract me from my duty.” Hubert glances down at the hand upon the log that lies between them. He wonders if it is cold, as it was bare to the gusts that pervade through the night.

“Very well.” Ferdinand sighs and finds the words come easier than he would have expected. “Our next battle, it is certain to bring us face-to-face with past colleagues. While I do not falter with my dedication to our mission. I...I find myself lost in how I will handle myself upon a field where a past ally stands before me--” 

He swallows a lump in his throat, a shiver running through his entire body as Hubert sits and contemplates his rambling thoughts. Had it been unwise to confess such thoughts to Hubert? He was a man of pure devotion, never showing a lick of doubt. Would this damage the vision he held of Ferdinand within his mind?

“Ferdinand?”

“Yes?”

“You have chosen this side out of your own volition, correct?”

Ferdinand bites his lip, but he nods his head in agreement. 

“Then, you should have no fear. When the time comes, your loyalty will shine through, as it always has.” Hubert speaks plainly, as if stating a fact that was indisputable. His unshaking confidence hits something within Ferdinand’s chest. Striking a chord that causes him to feel a moment of comfort despite the bite in the air. 

Ferdinand keeps his gaze upon the flames once more, another full body shudder running through him. It was far too large to ignore this time. Thus, Hubert sighs and unclasps his cloak, carefully sliding it off of his shoulders. Turning towards Ferdinand, he drapes it upon his back and allows him to be encompassed in its warmth. 

“H-Hubert? I do not--”

“You are dressed poorly for night watch. You will freeze before morning.” He mumbles, averting his gaze as a hesitant pink glow spreads across his cheeks. 

It is quiet.

Then, Ferdinand laughs. 

He attempts to stifle the sound with the palm of his hand, so it does not bother the slumber of their teammates. Once the moment of laughter dies down, he can’t help but smile gently at Hubert, catching the faint blush that dyes his face. There is so much he wished to say to him. So much that needs to be appropriately discussed instead of quietly buried in his fluttering heart. 

But it is not the time.

Edelgard’s war rages on, and with it so does Hubert. Even if Ferdinand feels a spark between them, he knows all too well that nothing will come if he pushes too soon. 

So, he must wait. Fight another day. Enjoy what brief moments he can share with him

“Do you… honestly believe that firmly in me?” He is nervous to ask because he knows that Hubert does not take treachery lightly. Hence, admitting his slight hesitation for facing familiar faces could be a large step back to all the progress they have made throughout these cumbersome, bloodstained years. 

Suddenly, there is weight upon his hand and a pleasant heat to accompany it. Glancing downwards, his eyes catch upon Hubert’s resting his own gloved hand upon his own hand. He stares in disbelief for a good few seconds, blinking to see if the vision would blur and turn to be a strange distortion of his tired mind playing tricks upon him. 

“I do. For better or worse, I have faith in you, Ferdinand.” He lets his fingers interlock in between the spaces of Ferdinand’s hand. “Do not prove my trust wrong.”

Overwhelmed with joy, Ferdinand scoots closer and rests his head upon Hubert’s shoulder. Luckily, the mage does not move or push him away. He merely settles his own head against him and enjoys the unspoken affection. 

“I shall not. I will prove to Edelgard. To Adrestia. To you-- That I am ready to bring us all a step closer to a better future.” 

A soft squeeze upon his hands lets him know that Hubert hears him clearly.


	7. Midnight Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ferdinand can not sleep, Hubert is there to soothe the pain.  
> Rated G

On the most **unforgiving** of nights, there is no rest to be found. Only _nightmares_. Haunting images that plague Ferdinand’s mind, flashing with memories of a war that had settled in physicality, but lingered within his unsettled, subconscious mind. He could still feel the weight of his armored boots, trudging through field after field. 

Never stopping. Pushing forward.

His hands can sense the shape of his spear, **clenched** within his fingers. He can feel the give as he cuts down a faceless adversary, feeling the _easy_ give as his flesh pierces from the force of his jab. It is often accompanied by the feeling of blood splattering upon him; staining his arms, his chest, his face, his _soul_ in the crimson hue. 

As his body jerks and tosses between the sheets, the memories scattered within his _“dreams”_ fade into morbid fears. A spontaneous flood of wretched outcomes. Ones where victory was not obtained without sacrifice. Without loss. Digging into the deepest fears within his heart, his own mind tortures him with wretched visions.

Visions of those he adores becoming not _war heroes_ , but **corpses**. 

Suddenly, he springs up in a cold sweat, **gasping** for air. His eyes burst open and gaze upon his surroundings. His mind is _unraveled_ , scanning the area for any signs of danger. Despite the lack of threats, his heart will not stop its incessant pounding, and his breathing is labored. Alas, his body lies hunched over, not moving a muscle. 

Mind and body are not aligned, as his head is yet to connect he is not in danger. That he is currently lying in bed beside his…

_His_ **_husband_ ** **\--**

Looking to the side, he finally takes notice that Hubert was awake at his side. He had been awoken by his _startling_ movements, and he looked utterly **mortified** . He slowly reaches a hand, -- _not wishing to alarm him any further_ \-- and gently takes a hold of one of Ferdinand’s hands to squeeze. 

“ _Dear_ ,... are you quite alright? Was it another one of the **nightmares**?” Hubert speaks slowly and soft, his green eyes a bright beacon in the pitch black of their bedroom. He sounds scared; concerned for his life partner.

Ferdinand does not have the strength to speak, biting upon his lip and giving a quick nod. He gazes upon Hubert, his eyes shining with such immeasurable fright. Upon further inspection, Hubert is certain he is trembling. 

“Sh _hhh_ , come closer.” He whispers as he opens his arms, letting Ferdinand gradually slide into his embrace. Once Ferdinand’s back is pressed firmly against his chest, Hubert moves one hand to gently stroke the top of his head and run his fingers through his hair. He is cautious, not wishing to cause any more harm. 

Ferdinand takes deep breaths, but it is not enough to pull him from the shadows that cloud over his mind. He still shakes, leaning into the touch and parting his lips for a single hushed word.

“ _Sing_.”

On cue, Hubert takes in a large inhale and picks a specific melody that he knew was a personal favorite of his husband. He squeezes him within his arms, letting his fingers weave through his locks as he begins to sing a lullaby to soothe the frayed nerves of his tormented lover. 

It was a _special_ song. One that Ferdinand had always hummed to himself during the war effort. A clinging memory of his past, when his own mother would sing the delicate melody to pacify him when he was but a boy.

And now, as an adult man, Ferdinand clings to the beautiful _symphony_ that is his husband’s voice. He lets it penetrate deep into his ears. The lush, smooth tone of his voice helped to highlight the calming effect of the tune. 

It pushed past his tortured heart and mind, bringing them back to a steady place. His breathing slows, and his head unclogs the fog that the nightmares had set inside. Now, he merely turns to press his face into Hubert’s shoulder to appreciate the **richness** of his voice as he does not stop yet.

Even if he was brought back from his panicked state, Hubert brings the lullaby to a close with a final note. He accentuates the closure by moving his scarred hand upon Ferdinand’s cheek and gazing into his eyes. They share a moment of silence before he tilts his head upwards to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“You’re _home_ , Ferdinand. I am **here**.” 

And Ferdinand knows it to be true, letting himself be pulled back onto the mattress to curl upon his chest. He does not need to ask, as Hubert gently rubs across his back and begins to sing another lullaby to bring him to a peaceful slumber. 


	8. A Delicate Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert quietly watches as Ferdinand converse around the ballroom. They share a dance.

Ferdinand could feel the weight of a hefty gaze from across the ballroom; a look that could only belong to a singular Imperial Spymaster. He knew that Hubert had only attended this diplomatic party due to his request over tea just a few days prior. A gaudy celebration, such as a ball, wasn’t Hubert’s scene. He felt out of place with the abundance of dazzling lights and amiable chatter filling the air. 

Yet, Hubert was positively **eye catching** to Ferdinand, even with a sour scowl across his features. The custom tailored coat he had chosen was fitted well to his form, a luxurious black with light accents of muted red at the collar and cuffs. He also had a shiny gold brooch on his left coat pocket, a gift from his liege. He wore it only for such frivolous occasions. Ferdinand found the entire ensemble to be _breathtaking._

Yet, Ferdinand had become a **coward** , something very unlike his usual robust attitude. 

He kept letting himself get sidetracked by different guests, if only to avoid addressing the inherently selfish reason for extending an invitation to Hubert. For a man willing to thrust himself into the frontlines of battle without batting an eye, his apprehension was _absurd_. 

As the night progressed, Hubert became impatient. Nursing different glasses of wine and lingering in the shadows of large crowds, he began to formulate his own plan of action to take control of the night. Taking matters into his own silk gloved hands, he stealthily starts off on his mission.

Keeping his presence hidden among various crowds of partygoers, Hubert strides across the vast room. He blends in with various servers and guests - Ferdinand unaware of his creeping presence - as expected of a man who specialized in espionage. Staking himself a few steps from where Ferdinand was currently chatting with a group of diplomats, he eavesdrops on their conversation. 

“You have yet to dance, Minister Aegir! Will you not partake in the festivities? This party is for your enjoyment, as much as our own.” A rather short, blonde man says towards Ferdinand. 

“Please, accept this dance? I promise to lead with the most elegant of forms.” 

From the look of the jewelry upon his fingers and the intricate stitching of his waistcoat, Hubert surmises he is likely an old noble house’s son. While he knew nothing of the man, he can help but feel a sinking feeling of… _irritation_ within his gut. He **loathes** how he brushes up against Ferdinand, arms touching in a manner that would have caused Hubert’s own face to heat with a blush.

“Ah, I am flattered, but I must politely decline. You see, I am…” Ferdinand fishes for an excuse, “Well, not the most graceful dancer--“

“ _Nonsense_ ! You are a natural, and besides, I shall lead. You have no reason to fret.” The tone is sickeningly sweet and **insincere** . The sort of voice that one uses to butter up those they required a favor from. Suspicious of this man’s motives, Hubert notices the _discomfort_ upon Ferdinand’s face and must intervene.

“Excuse me, but I believe **_I_ **have prior engagements with Minister Aegir.” Hubert steps forward and extends a hand towards Ferdinand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

The blonde gentleman opens his mouth to speak, but one chilling glance from Hubert’s eerie green eyes is all the intimidation it takes to scare him off. With a sad excuse of an apology, the gentleman scuttles away like a bug. 

Then, Hubert feels the _warmth_ of Ferdinand’s hand through his glove, and he swallows his nerves and clears his throat with a dry cough.

“Come now. You got us into a mess.” He sighs, feigning annoyance with _pink_ tinted cheeks. Stepping out onto the floor, he holds onto Ferdinand’s hand and moves his other to be placed upon his hip.

“Ridiculous. Dancing among these fools.” Hubert scoffs, eyes scanning the room as an impressive amount of eyes land upon them. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Hubert asks as he leads them into a slow paced waltz. 

The response he receives stops his _breathing_.

“You look **lovely** tonight, Hubert. I-I am grateful you attended.” Ferdinand looks up from their clasped hands, meeting his gaze. “I know this may seem wasteful and frivolous to you, but… I believe you are a marvelous dance partner.” His face is flushed, eyes flickering between the floor and the intense gaze of Hubert’s eyes. 

Hubert is _quiet_ as they sway, looking contemplative as he chews his bottom lip. His face is suddenly on fire with a vibrant red hue, too.

“I was… disheartened at first by your, _umm_ , lack of interest in my presence when I arrived, but--” He takes a deep breath, exhaling through the nose. “...Perhaps clearing my schedule for tonight was worth it. If only to save you from nitwits like that _bloody_ man.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, to which Ferdinand can only laugh.

A laugh that **tickles** the chest of Hubert and makes his insides feel like jelly.

“You are my _savior_. Rescued from a poor dance partner. Truly a marvelous feat.” He teases, and Hubert chuckles and shakes his head at the tone of his voice. He jested too much. 

As the song comes to an end, Hubert doesn’t let go of Ferdinand, and the two merely stand still and stare at one another awkwardly. Ferdinand summons up the courage to speak first.

“I wish we could stay like this forever. Just dancing, **together** .” He rambles, his heartbeat racing against his battered ribs. He glances up at Hubert, flustered by how _embarrassed_ the usually stoic man looked. He was utterly crimson, and he didn’t dare make eye contact. Instead, Hubert looked away and quietly mumbled.

“I....I would not mind that. If it were _you_.” This is all he says before letting him go, clearing his throat once more. 

Damn _itch_.

The music had stopped, and the party was nearing its end. He could see other couples separating and leaving the floor. Part of him wants to grab Ferdinand again, but he wasn’t so **bold**. He merely offers a nervous smile as Ferdinand was tongue tied.

“ _Hubert_ … I--“ He stops as he hears his name called from across the room. He curses internally and presents an apologetic look. “I look forward to our next ball. Please, save _your_ next dance for _me_.” He extends a hand, and Hubert takes it and shakes. It was a little formal and stiff, but both men are embarrassed all the same.

“As you wish.” Hubert was a man who kept promises.


	9. Style Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spin off of my story "Not Your Typical Love Song"  
> You don't have to read it to enjoy this, but if you like the premise, check that fic out [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25597522)
> 
> This one shot is simply Ferdinand and Hubert giving make overs to try and hide from paparazzi before going on a date  
> Rated G

“Stop moving. You are going to ruin my work.” Hubert’s voice mumbles, feeling annoyed that his boyfriend would not stop twitching his eyes whenever he brought the eyeliner marker closer to his lid.

“I am trying to be still! But you keep pressing too hard.” Ferdinand huffs, a pout upon his face as Hubert tapped the side of the eyeliner marker impatiently with his freshly red, glittery painted nails. 

This had been Ferdinand’s idea. He had suggested that the two of them swap styles for the evening before going out to see a movie. Although they would be in the dark most of the date anyways, the two were always precautious to not be recognized in public. After all, the paparazzi never slept and would do anything to get a good scoop. And what was better than an article about the newest cross genre couple that was sweeping the nation by storm?

Yet, the act of doing one another’s makeup and choosing their clothes was a little more tedious than originally thought. Ferdinand currently has one eye done, full of the most garish, thick winged liner he had ever seen in his life. He kind of loved it. It was so bold and brooding compared to his usual color schemes, so it was a fascinating change. 

However, Hubert kept pressing too hard and making him wrinkle his eyes in discomfort. To which, Hubert found it annoying. How the hell did he handle strangers caking up his face in such glam fashion if he couldn’t handle the firm press of eyeliner? He would never understand. 

“Fiiiine. I will be more gentle. Just...stay still.” Hubert mutters, going to reposition the tip of the marker against his lid. He uses a steady long stroke of his hand, leaving a nearly identical wing upon his left eye. He pulls away to take a gander at his work, capping the eyeliner and tossing it into a makeup bag he had brought along.

“Can I see it?”

“Not until the whole look is done.”

“Ughhh, hurry up then. What’s left?” Ferdinand asks, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. His hair was currently styled up in a set of twintails, large black ribbons tying up each side. He had surprisingly never done such a style, and he was shocked how talented Hubert was with working with long hair.

Hubert reached to grab an eyebrow pencil, ignoring his question as he darkens his brows a few shades and keeping them rather naturally formed. He was borrowing some of Ferdinand’s own make up, since if Hubert had used his own concealer or foundation, Ferdinand would have looked like a pathetic ghost. 

“Hubie…”

“Lipstick and mascara.” He quickly whispers, twisting the cap off of the mascara bottle and pulling it out. “Now close your eyes again.” 

The mascara application is much smoother, and Hubert is rather proud of the eerie look he has achieved thus far. With his smokey eyes, winged liner, and lightly chiseled cheeks and jaw, he knew all that was left was the matte black lipstick. So, he fishes out the tube, turning the bottom and instructing Ferdinand to not make any weird faces or he’d get lipstick on his teeth. 

Gliding the lipstick across his lips, Hubert hums in approval at the stunning effect it has on his appearance. With that final check, he was surely ready to head out for their date. He can’t help but chuckle to himself, admiring his work. With the finished makeup, nails, and a few studs in his ears, Ferdinand finally matched with the beaten up vans, ripped dark grey skinny jeans, and the oversized black hoodie that had some strange skull image upon it that kind of perturbed Ferdinand. 

“Beautiful. Would you like to see?” Hubert asks, pulling out a tiny compact mirror to show off the finished look. Ferdinand quickly grabs it and stares, gawking at his reflection.

“I-I look...amazing!” He grinned, feeling rather sexy in his boyfriend’s clothing and makeup. He leans over and kisses him upon the mouth, and Hubert whines but presses back.

“You’ll stain my lips and smudge yours.”

“Pffft-- Please, this stuff you wear never smudges that easy. Though, it does stain others.” He grabs a makeup wipe and gently runs it over Hubert’s mouth, who makes fake gagging sounds as if the taste was revolting. 

Ferdinand tosses the wipe away, grabbing Hubert’s foundation and going to dip his applicator inside before starting to work on his sharp, handsome face. His hair had already been taken care of when they had changed clothing, as it was currently clipped out of his face with little heart hair clips. Hubert had even agreed to keep them in for the entire date, only because Ferdinand gave him his rather unfair puppy-dog eyes.

It was also why he was currently wearing a crop top in a deep maroon shade that reached to his stomach, along with a short, white jacket on top. Below, he wore chunky, white sandals and a pair of plain black, high waisted leggings that had a thick white stripe on each side. He had also borrowed some golden earrings, though he kept most of his facial piercings in.

Quickly working through the foundation and concealer, Ferdinand eagerly grabs his brushes to bring some more color to Hubert’s complexion. He personally loved his pale look, but he would liven it up this afternoon. First, with a bit of bronzer to make that sharp jaw and cheekbones pop out even more. Ferdinand almost had to fan himself already, since Hubert had such a handsome facial structure. 

When that is done, he places a few tiny stars stickers over so that he can apply a bright, pink blush that will leave little imprints of star shapes onto his cheeks. Hubert laughs at the ticklish feeling of the blush brush, then stays still for Ferdinand to remove the stickers. 

“Yes! It worked!” Ferdinand cheers, which makes Hubert blush for real, though it might be hard to tell under the makeup. 

His eyebrows are quickly filled to be thin and drawn with a slight arch. Grabbing his eyeshadow pallet, Ferdinand is precise with his brush work. He works to have a darker maroon in his crease, with a fade from vivid red to a softer pink across the list. Along with lots of sparkling glitter to make it dazzle a crowd. Then, Ferdinand gently takes the eyeliner pencil and gives him a much thinner cat eye. Just a small flick at the ends before moving to mascara and falsies.

“...I don’t wanna wear fake lashes.”

“But! Hubert, you’d look so good in them! C’mon! I promise I won’t glue your eye shut or anything.” Ferdinand flutters his own eyelashes, and Hubert hates how weak willed of a man he has become. 

“I would hope that was a given.” He murmurs, letting Ferdinand cut the lashes to his shape before applying the glue and sticking them upon his lash line. Once they are set, he takes the mascara wand to help blend and curl them upwards. He does a few glance overs before feeling it was good enough. 

Slipping the mascara back, he grabs a shiny pinkish-red lip gloss to tenderly brush over Hubert’s lips. He finds himself adoring the way his mouth looks, looking lustrous and tempting to kiss. But he must resist until they get to the movies. Then, he could feign interest in the film for about twenty minutes before pulling Hubert close to make out in the far back corner, near the top of the room. 

“Done! I think I’ve created a masterpiece.” Ferdinand smirks, locating the mirror and lifting it to showcase his hard work. Hubert takes it into his hands, his eyes wide with disbelief at the color that sat upon his face. Along with the cutesy hair clips and outfit, he has no doubts about their disguises. 

No one was going to recognize him unless they stared for a very long time. And the two would not give them such a chance.

“Mm, it will work. Thank you.” He leans down to take his hand, kissing to the top of it. To which Ferdinand blushes but rolls his eyes.

“I will bring the lip gloss for applying.”

“I’ll grab the lipstick.”

Ferdinand raises a brow, getting off of his bed and stretching out his limbs. Well, it sounded like Hubert had a similar idea about this little movie date. It would be a shame to ruin all their hard work, but they could just fix each other up afterwards in the bathroom.

Unless he somehow convinced Hubert to get a little frisky…

“Shall we head out? The movie starts in twenty minutes.” Ferdinand grabs his circular white sunglasses, trading them to Hubert for his sleek, classic black pair. 

Slipping the gaudy glasses over his sparkly green eyes, Hubert offers his hand to take and lead them from the bedroom and out of the apartment to the parking garage. 

“Yeah, be a shame to miss the previews.” He snickers, and Ferdinand can’t help but laugh along as they head to his car.


	10. To Admire (Florist 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert is a florist, and Ferdinand is a frequent customer of his shop.  
> Rated G

Glancing through the window, Ferdinand stares at the vast collection of flowers that the tiny florist shop held within its walls. The colors were all so vibrant with a multitude of shapes and sizes of petals. As his eyes scan over the the different types, looking for any newcomers since his last visit, he spots the owner come into frame. He held a watering can, tending to the needs of all the flowers.

Turning his head, Ferdinand finds himself caught as the florist raises a hand and waves at him through the window. Since he was the type of person with far too much concern for manners and politeness, Ferdinand decides to take a few steps and walk into the shop.

The doorbell rings above his head, and he is greeted by a strong fragrance of the various flowers that were housed in this building.

He takes in a slow inhale, relishing in the sweet scent that tickles his nose. Nothing could beat it.

“Ah. You are back already, Aegir.” The owner says, turning towards him and setting the watering can aside. He rubs his gloves over his apron, dusting some dirt and water onto the already smeared fabric. He almost always had a pair of gardening gloves upon his hands whenever he came into the shop.

“Of course. Anything new since my last visit, Hubert?” Ferdinand asks, a soft upon his face. He watches as Hubert walks over to a cart that held a few packs of seeds and various pots that were filled with dirt. “I also told you to stop calling me by my last name. Just say Ferdinand.”

A warm laugh leaves Hubert’s throat

as he pulls off his gloves and lets them sit upon the cart by his unfinished project. Even though he wore the gloves, he still had a small bit of dirt upon his fingers. A common side effect of his green thumb.

“Fine. I will remember that for your next visit.” Hubert taunts, a playful smile upon his lips. He then gestures with his hand for Ferdinand to follow him further into the back of the shop. “Come, I have a few newer flowers I have yet to organize into bouquets.”

Following after him, Ferdinand feels a tug upon his chest. As if something had implanted itself within the holes of his ribs and was weaving its way around his heart. He does his best to ignore the aching sensation, listening closely as Hubert shows off a few new buds he had perfectly trimmed and prepped for a bouquet.

Once finished sharing, Hubert turns to Ferdinand with a quizzical look in his eyes. However, the other man seemed slightly spaced out from the moment. He stares directly at Hubert, but his mind was elsewhere. His head was enthralled with the image of Hubert.

The way he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. The green apron with dirt stains. The heavy black boots upon his feet that thud across the floor as he walks. The way his hair falls to the side while bent over, revealing a peek of his other green eye. The sharpness of his jaw and chin, yet contrasted with the tenderness of his expressions as he ran his fingers over a few blossoming petals.

“Will you be getting your usual 6 flower bouquet? If so, which flowers are you desiring today?”

The deep, calming tone of Hubert’s voice pulls Ferdinand back from his thoughts. Which was secretly a blessing, as these thoughts had grown rather dangerous in their sentimentality. Hence, he coughs and turns to look at a random hanging basket.

“Surprise me.”

His heart feels the familiar vines wrap around it, entangling it within their grasp. Constricting around the poor organ as it thumps helplessly within his chest. There is nothing he can do. No matter how he hacks away at the weeds, they come back stronger.

“Here. I’m sure your recipient must be overjoyed by another batch of flowers.”

He hands him the neatly tied bouquet, and Ferdinand takes it with shaky hands. Yet, he calms himself enough to not make it noticeable.

“Indeed. Your’s are always the best.” He praises, gripping onto the stems a bit too tight.

There was no recipient. Just him and a five flower bouquet that would wilt at his desk. For the sixth flower always ended up pulled apart.

_I tell him._

_I tell him nothing._


	11. To Yearn (Florist 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand pulls apart his feelings.  
> Rated G

Leaning back in his chair, Ferdinand runs his fingers through his hair. He pushes the strands that had escaped his lazily tied bun past his ears, annoyed by their constant obscuring of his vision. He sinks into his chair, hearing it squeak ever so softly from the added weight in one direction. Perhaps he should buy a new office chair, especially with the amount of time he spent at his desk, but he never really liked the habit of replacing something while it was still usable.

Sighing, he pushes away such idle thoughts and looks back to the blinking cursor upon the screen. It stares back at him menacingly, along with the lack of typed words upon the document. He was supposed to have had this draft already finished by now. Yet, his mind had betrayed him and left him little concentration or inspiration to work upon the article.

It felt as if his head was cramped tight like an overflowing dresser with sleeves and pant legs of crumpled clothes spilling out. He kept trying to shove the drawer back into place, but it was growing more difficult with each passing day. The clothes were piling up. They scrunched together within the dresser, disorganized and stacked upon one another in each drawer.

Hence, when he came looking for a certain thought, a specific idea, or a helpful rush of energy; he had no such luck. He had to tear through the clothes, tossing them into disarray upon the floor. Ferdinand could only rub at his temples, leaning upon his elbows as he glares at his laptop screen in the dimly lit room. It was far too late, and he fears a headache was starting to brew within his sinuses.

Finally, he bites the bullet and shuts the laptop closed. Pushing it aside, he rests his head upon his crossed arms for a moment, resting his eyes. It would not be smart to fall asleep here. He knows that far too well from previous mistakes and the back pain that accompanied them.

Peeking his eyes open, he glances at the vase upon the desk with the six flowers within it. Hubert had done a lovely job of selecting the flowers once again. Pretty white and purple irises stared back at him in full bloom. Three of each color. Simple yet dazzling with the vivid purple against the stark white.

Raising his head up, he reaches and plucks a white iris from the vase. Carefully, he brings it to his nose and inhales the faint fragrance. It was not as powerful as other flowers he had gotten from Hubert, but it still brought him the same tranquility as he sniffed it.

“Sorry, it is rude to do this to something so delicate.” He whispers to himself, running his thumb over the smooth petals before plucking a single one off. “But I must. It is an impulse I have yet grown the strength to outgrow.”

He rolls his chair closer to the waste bin beside his desk. He looks down into it with its content of takeout containers and scrapped pieces of paper. Once again, another defenseless flower would join the trash for such selfish reasons.

Because he was a coward.

“I tell him how I feel.” He mumbles, letting the petal fall into the bin.

“I tell him nothing.” Another petal gently floats onto the top of the trash.

He pulls apart the iris, feeling a sense of catharsis at each tug. As he watched the flower slowly become bare without its petals, it is as if he is combatting the tangled weeds upon his own heart. Each petal rips another vine off, even if he knew the relief was only temporary. As soon as he saw Hubert again, his mere presence would water and feed the tangled roots until they recaptured his heart even tighter than before.

The petals begin to scatter into the bin, each holding within their lifeless form the hopes of a man who desires nothing more than to share his feelings. To look past the scars that lingered within his heart. He was scared; afraid to fall victim to the pain of opening himself up and being completely vulnerable.

He looks to his left hand, gazing upon his ring finger. He can still feel the light weight wrapped around it so snug. Holding within it promises of a future of endless harmony and affection; a future that never was realized.

He shakes his head and tears his gaze back to the flower within his right hand. There was no good reason to allow his mind to divulge onto such a pointless path. That door had been shut and locked forever. Along with the golden band that sat hidden away within a closet full of skeletons.

Ferdinand grips at the petals, tugging another off and muttering the words again.

“I tell him how I feel.”

As the words leave his lips, he feels his stomach drop at the last petal still clinging onto the flower. How many times has it been now? Yet, the outcome remained the same? Perhaps fate was truly trying to send him a sign that he was not to move forward. That he did not deserve to love again.

Before he drops the petal into the bin, he lets it linger between his finger tips. That is when he notices he had accidentally tugged two at once. Blinking a couple times in shock, he holds the two white petals in his palm for a moment before allowing them to drop with another whisper.

“I tell him nothing.”

Nearly snapping the stem, Ferdinand reaches and plucks the final petal and cherishes how soft it feels in his hand before allowing it to join the others. It safely lands as Ferdinand finds himself nearly praying with reverence the following words.

“I...I tell him how I feel!”

Rising to his feet, he tossed the stem into the garbage and pushed his chair back into his desk. This might be stupid and meaningless, but it meant the world to Ferdinand. It was the push he needed to rise above the ghosts of his past and take a step forward.

He would visit the shop tomorrow.


	12. To Confess (Florist 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand faces his fears and his emotions.  
> Check Tori's art of this little drabble [ here. ](https://twitter.com/ArcticTori/status/1310259284136128513?s=20)  
> IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL!!! <3  
> Rated G

Despite his determination during the night prior, Ferdinand found himself hesitating when he stood outside of the florist shop. He had awoken with the mission to march to the florist shop when it opened so that he could pour out his heart before any other customers stopped by during the day. Yet, when he arrived, he noticed he had even beaten Hubert to the shop. 

Hence, Ferdinand quickly shuffled away to the nearest cafe a few blocks away. He orders himself a cup of tea and goes to sit by the window, holding onto the warm mug and staring into it introspectively. He finds himself second guessing his choices as his eyes lock with his reflection in the tea. 

Was this truly a smart choice? Confessing his fondness for a man who barely knew him? What if Hubert thought he was strange? He didn’t want to lose what little of a relationship they had by making it awkward with his bothersome emotions. It was strange since he was usually the type of man who reveled in being honest and upfront about how he felt towards others, but...romance had become a different story. At least, after the incident. 

Sipping from his cup, he attempts to clear his head of all these nagging doubts that were trying to persuade him from returning to the shop. He had been playing this game for months now, and he was sick and tired of it. He didn’t like the way it felt, as if he was always losing with no chance to claim victory. He had to either break the rules or toss the game out entirely. 

No more waiting idly. He was a man of action. No matter the outcome, he could not linger with these unspoken words heavy on his tongue for a second longer. He chugs the rest of his tea, feeling revitalized with his plan of attack clear in his mind. Dropping a tip in the jar at the counter, he turns to leave and confront Hubert about how he made him feel.

It had been far too long since he had any semblance of the way his heart swelled in the presence of the florist. He knew there was something special about him. From his sharp, handsome features to him surprisingly kind yet aloof nature, Hubert had weaved his way into Ferdinand’s heart.

And it was there that these affections were currently blooming with the hope of being mutual.

When Ferdinand returns to the shop, there is already another man there speaking with Hubert about a hanging basket. He doesn’t wish to eavesdrop, so he goes to pace around the store, taking in all the budding flowers. He finds himself drawn to a selection of pink camellias that look to be freshly watered. He leans forward, taking in a deep inhale of their sweet fragrance. He is unsure why, but these specific pink petals were calling out to him.

He reaches to touch them, running his fingers over the soft, damp petals. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds of the shop. He can hear the deep, charming voice of Hubert as he rings up a sale. He can hear him share a polite laugh, the sound making tingles rush down Ferdinand’s spine. Oh, how he wished to be the one to cause such delightful laughter from his lips. 

Opening his eyes, he hears the other man’s footsteps leaving the shop, the sound of the bell giving away his departure. He has little time to prepare himself for his confession, as Hubert’s thick soled boots start to thud towards him. He turns around, greeted by the sight of Hubert in that familiar apron and gloves. Yet, his hair was pushed to the side some with a clip of sorts keeping it out of his eyes. The sight of which made Ferdinand’s heart skip a beat.

“Ah! Hubert, just the man I was looking for.” Ferdinand chirps, trying to keep his cool by playing off as extra chipper.

“Mm? Well, I would hope you wouldn’t be searching for anyone else here, since I’m the only one who works here.” He teased dryly, smiling at the way Ferdinand sputters and grows a little pink across his cheeks. “But the real question is, why are you back? Not saying I don’t appreciate your patronage, but...it’s a bit early even for you.”

Ferdinand knows that this is his chance. That he has to come clean, even if it hurts. Even if Hubert rejects him. He could no longer suffer in silence, for his heart couldn’t take the tightness of those damn vines gripping onto it every time Hubert slipped into his thoughts. One way or another those weeds would be removed for good today. Either from being pulled from mutual feelings, or from being unable to wrap around the pieces that would be left in the wake of his melancholy. 

“Of course, heh…It makes sense why you would wonder that.” He laughs nervously, rather forced. 

“...I suppose I had some business to tend to with you, in a manner of speaking.” Ferdinand begins to explain, glancing back at the camellias.

He wished to grab one and tear it to pieces. To double check if this was the right time. He feels the familiar itch around his left ring finger, moving his other hand to rub over it in an anxious fashion. It screams at him to stop before it's too late, before he’s walking down another path to heart ache. He had been unable to stop it last time. Everything lost in the blink of an eye. 

He had the chance to avoid such lingering trauma clouding his mind, but...he also held the opportunity to cleanse his scarred heart with a fresh love. Something so pure and delicate; he deserved that much. He has been told so by his friends for years now. 

“Hopefully not business with more flowers. I’m not one to say no to more money, but you might have a problem.” Hubert snickers, glancing over at the camellias he had been staring at. He often included one or two in the bouquets he made for Ferdinand. He wonders if he purposely was staring at them alone this morning.

“Not exactly. I more so wish to talk with you, one on one about some things that have been on my mind.” He starts, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat and cotton in his mouth. Yet, he can’t stop here. Today was the day where he let it all be heard in the open. 

“Go on, then.”

“Hubert, when I first came to visit this shop. I...I had come looking for flowers for a friend’s birthday. I wanted to surprise her with a nice gift, but then-” He takes a sharp breath, meeting his gaze and not daring to look away from his eyes. 

“Then,...I saw you. I heard the way you were humming as you watered the flowers. I could see the passion for your job in your eyes. You looked so at home, so at peace here. With your dirtied gloves and stained apron. Your hair was even a little damp from a hose malfunction, I can still recall how your bangs were clumped in front of your eye.” 

Hubert listens as he describes the encounter, shocked at the amount of details he remembered. He bites his lip, chewing upon it to not speak before Ferdinand has said all that he must. 

“I fell in love at first sight.”

The room is quiet, and Ferdinand finds himself shaking where he stands.

“I know, that’s stupid right? It’s for movies, and honestly,...at my age I should know better than to believe in such foolish fantasies. But it felt real, Hubert. The moment I met your gaze, it was as if I...I was entranced under your spell.”

As Ferdinand fumbles through his words, trembling in his shoes, Hubert can not keep quiet. Even though he wanted to be kind and wait until he was done. He breaks the distance between them, stepping forward. He grabs onto him, pulling him into a hug. His grip is tight, smearing dirt on the back of his shirt without a care. He could apologize or have it cleaned for him later. 

“Ferdinand,...all this time, you have been coming here, and buying flowers for yourself? Is that what you are trying to tell me? There is...no one else?” Hubert’s voice is quiet against his ear, his grip loose enough that the other can slip away if he wished. 

“No, minus the first time. I...I came back for you.” He swallows thickly, moving to grip onto Hubert, pressing his face into his shoulder. He smelled like the shop, incredibly floral, but with a lingering spice of whatever body wash he used in his showers. 

Suddenly, Ferdinand gasps as Hubert tears off his gloves, moving to grab onto his face. He holds his cheeks in his hands, caressing them with his calloused hands. The touch is warm, and it gets hotter from the blush that stains Ferdinand’s face.

“All this time,...I have been jealous of no one. Sending subtle hints with the flowers of your bouquets. A feeble and cowardly attempt to speak with you, I know.” He leans forward and presses their forehead together.

“...Wait, you sent me hints? That you shared my feelings? How? I never saw any notes or-”

“I would have thought you knew the language of flowers, being a romantic.”

“Oh.”

Hubert laughs and squeezes him tight, pulling away from him. He grabs his gloves in one hand, the other pulling upon Ferdinand’s hand. 

“Come, look at the flowers with me. I want to share all the messages you have failed to notice in your ignorance.” His words taunt, but in the sweetest of tones.


	13. Burning the Midnight Oil (Hubert POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lack of sleep allows Hubert to make a foolish mistake when working late at night with Ferdinand.  
> Rated G

Garland Moon,

The night is long, and the minutes seem to tick by so quickly that they bleed into hours. Time seems to escape me as I spend the evening glued to my chair besides a burning candle. The wax has melted nearly half way down the stick, or perhaps even more than that by the collection of hardened wax within the chamberstick. It would need scraped out and cleaned before another use, a task to add to my ever growing list. I scribble a reminder on a piece of folded parchment, then tuck it within the crevice of a tome I had been rifling through earlier within the evening.

My usual evening habits were spent in solitude. I would file through maps, reports, and various documents in accordance to prepare for our next course of action in the war front. My sleep was near nonexistent, minus an hour or two spent in a half-conscious state upon my desk. There was far too much to plan to have my eyes closed for extended periods of time, and a nightly brew of Dagdan coffee beans did wonders to push back the tiresome haze that would befall me.

Alas, my routine had been interrupted by a peculiar guest. Though, I suppose that is not a fair title to place upon him. He has been inviting himself to my study for countless nights by this point, insisting on keeping me company and assuring that I do not work myself to death. A ridiculous thought. If I were to die from mere paperwork and not from the perilous battles I have stepped foot upon, then that would be quite the cruel irony.

However, Ferdinand von Aegir has always been a ridiculous man, among many other qualities I will not waste my ink in writing. I fear if I were to begin scrawling all the fitting descriptors of such a man, I would run out of ink or parchment. Maybe both. Albeit, there are plenty of prior pages I have spent writing his name and my thoughts.

But focusing upon my dilemma, Ferdinand had made himself comfortable within my study as of late. He marches within my quarters, takes half of my desk, and then burns one of my candles as we work into the late hours of the night. Sometimes we make quiet conversation; the topics range widely from considering battle tactics for an upcoming siege to overhearing rambling about a dessert or particular blend of tea that had been recently reintroduced to our supplies. But the sound of his voice has a strangely hypnotic quality to it. No matter what is discussed, I find myself entranced with every syllable that leaves his lips.

Tonight we are silent. The only sounds that fill the room are the faint crackles of the candles, the squeak of a chair when one of us shifted, and the faint whistle of the wind from outside. As my eyelids grew heavy, I could feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness. My handwriting grew sloppy, and I nearly knocked over the inkwell once. Ferdinand attempted to suggest I retreat to bed for the evening, but I refused him. Perhaps my stubbornness was the source of my downfall, as I foolishly ignored all the warning signs to save me from my own idiocy.

As the candle continued to dwindle, so did my ability to stay awake. My breathing slowed, as did my heartbeat, and I felt the tug of sleep upon my eyelids. Hunched over my desk, it was easy for me to lean forward a smidgen more, resting upon a stack of papers face first. Slumber overtook me, and I continued in a pathetic cycle of my face drooping towards the desk, then shaking out of it for a brief moment, before dozing off towards my documents once more.

Ferdinand noticed. Of course he did, and he attempted to speak with me in such an laughable state. But I cannot recall his words. He could have spoken any language outside of Fodlan for all I know. I can remember the shame that followed after though, as it still is burning within my veins as I write this note to myself. Such a heat keeps me wide awake, a cruel trick to play upon me after my lack of consciousness had so majorly embarrassed me.

Staring at Ferdinand through lidded eyes, I could not quite tell whether I was dreaming or not. My mind was foggy at best, and the appearance of him before me had been enough to further cloud any sensible thoughts inside my head. Within the flickering candlelight, Ferdinand’s face was illuminated to bring attention to the handsome features he so greedily possessed.

His hair was like strings of gold, highlighted so wondrously as it had likely become disheveled throughout the night. There were various strands sticking out of place, and perhaps even a few knots from all the events that unfold in a long day. But I happen to fancy such a rough appearance. It reminds me of how frazzled it appears when he returns from a ride with his horse.

Then, there was the firm cut of his jaw and chin, holding the visage of a man only written about in saccharine literature. Yet, Ferdinand was living and breathing before me. And he wore a worried look upon his face, his lips were red, plush, and curved in a half frown. His eyes also bore similar concern, with the richness of their amber hue gazing through me. In my sleep deprived state, I was easily charmed out of my wits.

Everything about him radiated a warmth that was more comforting than a blazing fire. More temperate than the sun’s rays, even on the most sweltering afternoons. At that moment, I did not know where I was in my sluggish brain. I did not know why or how Ferdinand had come before me. But I did know that I wanted nothing more than to burn to ashes in his utter brilliance.

Reaching forward over the desk, I grabbed a strand of his hair and pulled it towards myself. His face followed with it as I pulled the smooth copper to my mouth and pressed a kiss to the locks. If I had been in my right mind, I may have noticed the way Ferdinand sputtered before me. How his face grew two shades brighter from a flush of crimson. How a visible tremble ran through his body at such racy behavior.

It was only when I let that strand of orange hair slip through my grasp, leaning even closer with my eyes upon his quivering lips that I regained my senses. It was the whispering of my name that broke whatever spell fatigue had casted upon my head.

“H...Hubert?”

I rejoined the land of the living like a man intoxicated becoming sober at the rush of cold water upon his face. My eyes grew wide, and I beheld the red, freckled cheeks of Ferdinand and his delicate lips at a proximity I had only ever dreamed of before. Yet, he did not appear afraid. He simply looked shocked, perhaps even...anxious. Lying with anticipation. But that could simply not be true. Just my scattered thoughts playing tricks on me.

I retracted so quickly that I nearly fell back in my chair. Luckily, I caught myself before becoming an even greater mockery. Covering my face with one hand, I hastily offered my sincerest apologies to Ferdinand. He took it well, and we shared a terribly awkward laugh. I fear he was being far too kind to me after such a wretched dspay.

Still, the night was called there. I helped gather Ferdinand's things and led him to the door. As he stood within the entrance, clenching his papers under his arm, he seemed as if he wished to say something. His mouth parted open as if to speak, but then closed shortly after. I bid him goodnight, and he looked at me with the most thoughtful expression before shaking his head and wishing me sweet dreams.

But no such dreams have come to greet me tonight. I stare at this page and wonder how I will face him tomorrow? Or the day after that? Will we pretend this never occurred, or will he kindly let me down with a courteous rejection? In truth, I am not sure which I prefer. Both would sting me like a thorn sinking into my skin.

Yet, I fear I need rest. If this unsettling heat will leave me be, I shall close my eyes shortly. Time will pass, and it will tell what fate awaits me in the morning.

\- Hubert von Vestra


	14. Burning the Midnight Oil (Ferdinand POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand is flustered by bold actions sleep deprived Hubert takes when working late at night together.  
> Rated G

Garland moon,

I must confess that I am not one to write personal journals for myself often, but there comes a time where I am so bewildered by the events within a day that I feel the urge to document my experiences. It is a way to decompress, especially after a long and tiresome evening. There is a calmness that comes with the act of writing out my restless thoughts or overbearing emotions. I believe that by scribbling away these persistent memories and feelings, I am truly lifting them from my shoulders. They can no longer weigh upon me, as I have shifted their power onto the page. I can close and seal them with a tight ribbon around the leather binding, returning when I am of a more capable mind and body to reflect on their meaning.

But tonight is different. As I sit and dip my quill into my ink, I fret that I cannot escape the sudden rush of apprehension and excitement that pumps through my blood. My heart has yet to calm its incessant beating, even after my walk back to my personal quarters. I can feel it thumping steadily, as it reveals my most inner desires. Those that I have kept hidden from the source of such longing. I fear I will be receiving no sleep tonight, as my mind is flashing quickly through the same delicate images in an attempt to drive me mad with fantasies.

The day had been normal enough. I had spent a large portion of it within the council room beside Byleth, Edelgard, and Hubert, crunching numbers and calculating terrain on maps for possible combat tactics. Then, I spent a hefty amount of time in the afternoon, while the sun still was high within the horizon, training with members of my battalion. Keeping ourselves sharp and prepared for further battle was always a priority. As the sun began to set, I went for a quick ride before dinner and returned in time for a delicious meal among friends.

Everything went as expected. A day I have lived countless times. At least, until night fell, and I went to investigate the whereabouts of Hubert von Vestra. The man had scheduled a tea for us after our morning meetings, but had canceled suddenly in the name of business. The sort of business that was hushed, and he did not speak of the details. While it frustrated me, I also knew that one does not earn the title of “Imperial Spymaster” by simply running his mouth to all those who will listen.

I knocked upon his door only twice before he let me into the quiet room. He had a single candle burning upon his desk, and his room was as tidy as ever. Well, minus his desk. He had various books, maps, and documents scattered upon it.

It was too dark for my liking, so I borrowed one of his candles, lighted it, and found myself taking a spot across from him. I pulled up a chair and set down my own collection of documents, pulling them out to read and mull over. He did not even try to argue with my presence tonight, his nose buried within the mountain of pages before his eyes.

It was another late session of work, showing his eternal devotion to Edelgard and our cause. It was admirable, of course. Hubert is truly one of the most hardworking men I know. He never stops. He is always upon his feet, tending to every issue that arrived. He was the one who you go to when a problem arose in your own duties. He would fix it. He was the one who disappeared for days at a time without a word. He often came back battered but with priceless intel. He was the one who kept track of supplies and demands. He tried to keep people happy and satisfied with what rations they could in this war. He dealt with reports on casualties after every conflict. He never hid from the gruesome horrors.

But the question was, who kept track of him? Who made sure that he was alright? That he did not have an issue or needed a helping hand? He did not make it easy, but I refuse to allow him to work himself so raggedly. It was why I began to invite myself unannounced at his door multiple nights a week. If I could help share the weight, perhaps he would sleep just a little longer. Maybe he would be able to breathe a little easier. I often find myself worried over his health. His lack of self care is evident to all with eyes, including my own tonight.

At one point in the evening, I noticed that Hubert’s notes were becoming nothing more than scribbles. Plus, a few specks of ink were dropping on the page as he was messily dipping into the inkwell. He almost knocked it over, but I reached over and stopped its motion. I pleaded with him to go to sleep and catch up on his rest. He was not in a state of mind to be working this late. I could still smell the lingering scent of coffee in the air, telling me he had likely been drinking cups of it instead of closing his eyes to sleep. Despite my begging, he refused and attempted to continue on with his work.

Yet, as I was flipping through my pages, I glanced up and noticed a peculiar sight. Hubert was not the type of man to be vulnerable in front of others, but he sat before me utterly exhausted. His eyes were lidded, nearly closed as his head leaned forward towards his desk. He kept falling towards his papers, almost resting upon the desk, only to shake himself out of it right before he touched down. It was rather cute. Seeing him so sleepy, his head drooping like a child who refused to go to bed. His face looked gentler, too. Not scrunched up or scowling in thought, and his hair kept brushing over his eyes in a silly manner.

I tried to make conversation, insisting that he allowed me to take back the rest of the work. I could finish it before morning, and he could get his much deserved rest. However, I do not think he understood a word of what I said to him. I met his gaze, and I felt myself locked in place. His eyes were a tranquil green, one that could be compared to precious gems or jewels. But better. Those gorgeous eyes, beneath heavy lids, looked upon me with such a look of unfiltered adoration. The type that I have only ever dreamed of being gazed upon with by another.

I was so enraptured by his gaze that I did not even notice that he was extending his hand over the desk until it was too late. A gloves hand reached forward, and I gasped as it took a hold of a strand of my hair. Pulling me forward, I felt my face heat up as if I had been burned by the sun. He ran his silky fingers through my hair, then pulled it forward to his lips. He placed a kiss upon the locks, and I felt faint. No one had ever dared to do something so bold. He stared at me directly with those eyes, and I felt as if I were being enchanted. As if he were using some sort of forbidden cantation to keep my body still.

I have been flirted with before on various occasions. But most were full of enough manners to follow the etiquette of courtship. At most, a hand may have set too low upon my back, but no further. Those fleeting touches had never affected me like this. I could feel my body growing warmer by the second, as my blood began to course through my veins in a rush of excitement and maybe a pinch of fear. Simply because I did not know what to expect. Hubert had never been the type of man to act so racy before, at least as far I had seen.

My hair slipped through his fingers, and I parted my lips to speak. No words left my mouth. Not as he leaned forward, inching ever closer until I could feel his breath tickling against me. His face was at a proximity I had never experienced before. I could see every every line, every detail. Even a tiny mole beneath his chin I never had noticed before. But the most captivating were his eyes still. His hair messily scattered over the one, but still piercing through the black fringe into my pounding heart. I could not hear anything else but the sound of it thumping in my ears.

He hovered closer and closer. I had never gotten a chance to admire how utterly eye-catching he was for so long. His eyelids began to flutter shut, and I felt the urge to do the same. I got a final good look at the gorgeous cut of his cheekbones and jaw as his pale lips were nearly brushing against my own. I slowly closed my eyes, lips quivering as I muttered his name just once.

“H...Hubert?”

The word broke the spell he had been under, as he immediately recoiled from me in an instant. He shot up to his feet, nearly tripping over the legs of his chair. He managed to steady himself upon the desk, a hand covering over his flushed face. I was in such a state of shock that I sat there stupefied for a few moments. He hastily began to apologize to me in disarray. A sudden twist in my gut began to settle, as he refused to directly look at me for more than a second before darting his eyes again to the wall or floor.

The night came to a close then. He finally was willing to rest, and so I gathered up my papers and slipped them under my arm. I had so many words upon my tongue, yet not a single would be muttered. As I was led out the door, I lingered by the entrance. I needed to say something. I need to ask about what that all had been! But my lips opened and only my shaky breath left. My throat constrict and my tongue tangled to the point nothing would come out. It was the first time in a long while that I felt too nervous to speak my mind.

I quickly mumbled a farewell and returned back to my room. Which is where I am now, with my heart beating so rapidly still. It aches, but it also brings me a sense of wonder. I do not know what to make of tonight. I do not want to assume it meant too much. Hubert had been in an altered state of mind. He was clearly exhausted. But I want to hope. I wish to dream that he shares in my affections.

Perhaps it is selfish to long for something so frivolous in the middle of war, but I cannot control how my heart longs for him. Tomorrow, I must confront him. Whether he wishes to or not. I must know his intentions, before I lose all my nights to this powerful pulsing of my heart.

\- Ferdinand von Aegir


	15. Finding Myself in Your Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert POV: After Ferdinand and Hubert have their first time. 
> 
> LIGHTLY MATURE - T or M Rating

My heart is still pounding inside my chest as I lie across the bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling as if time were frozen. I cannot seem to move, even though I know I should. I was supposed to grab a cloth to help clean the two of us off, but in the haze of the moment I find myself unable to leave this bed. How could I move a muscle when I barely could believe that anything around me was real? That what just happened wasn’t some sensual fantasy inside my mind from years of repressed longing slipping through the cracks.

I glance beside me and can see him still lying there, naked on top of the sheets. It takes all of my self control to not immediately rush to his side and bury my face into his chest. He looked like an angel beneath me the entire time. With his orange sunset hair across the white pillows, disheveled like a glorious mess. Even a few copper strands stuck to his forehead from sweat in the heat of the moment. Truthfully, it was like my hands were swimming through an ocean of fire each time I held him a little closer. My palm pressed against the back of his head while weaving my fingers through the soft locks.

Despite the tense silence within the room, his voice still echoes in my ears. Every gasp and moan that spilled from those pink, tender lips. Oh, what a delight they had been to kiss over and over. Better than anything I could have ever dreamed of, and I had imagined quite often how delicate Ferdinand would taste. Among so many other fantasies I had about the man, it had all come to life in a spur of the moment. One moment we were simply bickering playfully about an upcoming ball Her Majesty was hosting. The next second we were grabbing at each other’s clothing like a pair of crazed animals in heat.

“...Hubert.” His voice is but a whisper, as he breaks the silence.

“Ah! Apologies...I will move and grab the cloth-” I quickly spring up and move to slide off the bed, but I only manage to sit up with my legs dangling off the side before I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

My pulse increases once more as I can feel how wonderfully warm Ferdinand feels against my bare back. His hair gently tickles against my skin as he sets his chin on top of my shoulder. Our eyes still do not meet, as I close mine to not reveal how I was unaccustomed to all this tenderness. It seemed impossible that I was truly sitting here, having just shared a bed with Ferdinand von Aegir. A man, who although we had a troublesome start, I had grown to respect and love more than anyone else. However, I never would voice such words.

How could I? Admitting that there was another who had taken such a large portion of my heart was nearly treacherous to my devotion as a vassal to my lady. Besides, the man himself had mentioned prior that he got...unsettled by my raw feelings being spoken out loud. Yet, I was too dreadful with words for paper, which left us at quite the impasse. Though, I suppose inarticulate letters and peculiar gifts were at least an attempt at winning his favor.

“Not yet.” Ferdinand says, his breath upon my skin making me shudder once. “I...I do not want you to get up and leave me. Not after...after...this.”

His words are pleading, and within them are seeds of doubt. I wonder what he thought now. Did he possibly regret allowing me to sleep with him? To engage in something so intimate when we had yet to even properly court? I fear that he will want an explanation for what we have just done, but I simply cannot provide one. For I was also unsure how it had even happened. Until tonight, I still had doubts that even felt anything towards me more than the amiable nature of friends and allies.

Oh, but it felt like so much more than that. With the way he preened and begged for me, unbuttoning the top of my trousers and staring at me through lidded eyes and lashes with such indescribable lust. He praised me endlessly during it all. Gripping at my back with his nails as I slipped inside him, feeling the way he curled his legs around my waist and squeezed so tight every time I snapped my hips ruggedly forward. I never imagined making a comment about how ‘swarmed with suitors’ he would be upon the night of the ball would lead to him growing courageous enough to whine for me to make a move already.

“Take your claim upon me. You already have my heart. Have the rest of me.”

He had begged me.

It still echoes in my ears.

Everything just tumbled from that point, and now I was sitting here with his heart gently thumping against my back. I could feel it fluttering, likely filled with nerves. We were both antsy messes it seemed. To jump into the throes of passion without ever properly expressing one’s feelings with words was quite a cumbersome place to be. The obvious physical attraction was there. I had become like a beast in the blink of an eye for one so close to utter perfection.

“I do not intend to leave.” I respond finally, trying to swallow but my throat feels dry. “I wish to stay here. If you would permit me such an honor…”

“Hubert!” Ferdinand says with a sharp breath, pressing his face further into the crook of my neck and showering it with kisses. “If you asked to stay forever I would say yes.”

He lifts his head up, and through the long strands of hair, I can see his eyes glittering with sincerity. He has a tender smile upon his lips, and I feel myself becoming weaker by the second in his presence. The thought of spending forever with him, it sets my poor heart and mind aflame. If my prior dreams had been rather shameful, this only fueled them to grow even more demanding. Wishing to create a world where the two of us could be together; where I would awake each day and see his heartwarming smile beside me in bed.

“Oh, Ferdinand..” I take in a deep breath, trying to find the words that all wish to be spoken, but they are tangled like threads within my mouth.

“Yes? Go on..” He says, reaching to guide his hands upwards to settle across my chest, hovering over my heart.

“I believe forever is a bit far off, but I am grateful to spend the night together.” I turn my head, pressing our foreheads together.

All I wish to do is kiss and hold onto him until sleep overcomes my body and mind. On some level, he must sense that desire, because he leans down and captures my lips for a kiss. We press back together a few times before he tugs me to fall back upon him. Although I fear my weight upon him, he secures me so that I do not attempt to slip away. He peppers kisses across the top of my head, and I feel a sense of belonging settling inside me.

“My bed is...so much warmer with you in it.” Ferdinand mutters, pressing a hand to my face. I arch into the touch, meeting his amber gaze.

I share another peck or two before settling myself against his chest, listening to the way his heart gently beats. Of all the plans I had tonight, this far surpassed them. It could all wait until morning because I, the Minister of Imperial Household, was personally summoned for something fear greater at the moment.

“If it ever feels cold again, ask for me. I will come.”

“You mean that, Hubert?”

A beat of silence as I feel him pull up the sheets over our bodies.

“You have my word.”


	16. A Sudden Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand and Hubert have tea, when it begins to suddenly rain.  
> Rated G

Ferdinand gently blows on his tea, holding the cup steady in his hand. He stares at his reflection in the light brown liquid, noticing a small strand of hair that had fallen out of place. He gently uses his other hand to brush it back behind his ear before blowing once again and bringing the steaming cup closer to his mouth. Placing the porcelain against his lip, he tilts back and is greeted with a rush of cinnamon and spice. Yet, the temperature was still too hot, so he quickly set the cup upon its plate with a faint clink at the contact.

“You are going to burn your tongue, Aegir. Be patient.” Hubert comments from across the table, an amused look in his eyes as he watched Ferdinand reach for one of the various snacks and sweets that were spread before them.

The redhead ignores his snarky remark, grabbing hold of a cookie from the tray between them. He quickly bites into it, feeling the satisfying crunch as it breaks off. Both the pleasant sweet taste and cooler temperature are satisfying on his tongue. He is able to distract himself from the scorn of the tea by cooling off his mouth with the delicate treat. He quickly grabs a napkin to brush off a few crumbs from his chin, then folds the napkin upon the table once more.

“Thank you for your wise words, Hubert. Always so helpful.” He finally replies, watching as his tea time partner grabs his own cup. He had selected this brew specifically for Hubert’s palate. He knew that the mage was not the biggest consumer of tea, but he had noted his appreciation for a spicier blend.

“I am known for offering quality service and assistance.” Hubert teases back once more, reaching for a cookie as well. He preferred the shortbread ones. Less sugar. Better for accompanying a cup of coffee, or he supposes tea in this scenario.

“Mhm, when it benefits you.” Ferdinand trails off, staring intensely at the careful artistry of the tea set. He appreciated the detailing of each little flower and stem that was painted upon their cups and the kettle. This was one of his favorites; it was covered with bright yellow sunflowers that reminded him of the warmth of a summer’s day.

Reaching for his tea cup, Hubert lets the heat seep through his gloves. It was a nice sensation, especially when his hands often had trouble detecting certain feelings through all their magical scarring. It reminds him, oddly enough, of the comfort of holding hands with another person. That body heat that transfers through a touch, causing warmth to spread throughout the fingertips and up his wrist. In truth, he did not offer his hand to many, besides when appropriately leading Lady Edelgard into a formal ball or celebration. But he imagines this sense of comfort being prominent.

Enjoying his shortbread and indulging in a slow sip of tea, Hubert feels at peace. He did not like to be idle, but Ferdinand insisted on his attendance at leisurely tea times for his health. He did not find arguing with the man over something so miniscule to be worth the hassle. He had enough of his work spent debating with the man over proposals and policies.

“Tell me, have you reached any new conclusions in relation to the ordeal between Rulsaka and Boramas territories?” Ferdinand brings up, indulging himself in another cookie as he sips the cooled tea. He never used to be a fan of spiced teas, but he had found an appreciation during his friendship with Hubert.

“Ugh, not yet. It is a ridiculous argument over the boundaries of their territories.” Hubert groans, grabbing more shortbread and shaking his head. “The fact that these imbeciles are arguing over land that is clearly divided by a river is beyond my comprehension. It is as if they wish for me to split the river between them, and that if the other side even happens to catch a fish on the opposite side it’s a criminal offense.”

His rant earns laughter from Ferdinand, who has to quickly swallow a mouthful of tea before he spits and makes a mockery of himself. He hastily reaches and grabs his napkin, pressing it to his face and letting out a hearty chuckle at the way Hubert’s brows heavily furrowed in aggravation. In all the years that Ferdinand has managed to gain Hubert’s trust and friendship, he noticed that he often muted his feelings. So when he got to see them heated like so, it made him feel overjoyed.

“M-My apologies, Hubert. I...I do not mean to laugh--” Ferdinand says behind his hand, still holding back a few giggles. He has to take in a few slow, deep breaths before he can peel back his hand and find enough composure to appropriately respond to his friend’s struggle. “It is just so refreshing to hear you so...passionate.”

“Save your apologies. I know it must sound ridiculous that I am so riled up over this tedious conflict.” Hubert sighs, finishing off another cookie and chasing it down with more tea.

“Ahh, Hubert...” Ferdinand softens his voice, and Hubert quickly grows tense at the sounds. “I did not mean any offense. I meant what I said. I...I like seeing you a bit more, well...emotional.”

The way that Ferdinand looks upon Hubert has him under a spell. He had taken notice that the Prime Minister would only speak to him in that tender voice when the two of them were alone. Plus, he would gaze upon him with entreating eyes, pools of amber that are soothing to stare into endlessly. All the careful walls and locks he has guarding his heart seem to crumble just at the way his name sounds from those pink lips. It’s maddening in some aspects.

“No offense taken.” He clears his throat, feeling a sudden itch in the back of it. He tries to soothe it with the rest of his tea, but it still lingers. As if words were gripping and clawing their way towards his tongue to be articulated. “Although, you know as well as I do that emotions do not serve men of our positions well.”

Ferdinand simply smiles at him, reaching over the table to place his hand on top of the hand of his glove-clad guest. He can feel the other flinch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I agree. As Prime Minister and the Minister of the Imperial Household, we do need to rely on logic more than emotions.” He starts, staring at his bare hand on top of the off-white silk. “However,...I am not here with you as the Prime Minister. I am here with you as Ferdinand.”

Hubert feels his heart already beginning to thump quicker in his chest. He knows the angle Ferdinand is attempting to make, but he falls for it anyways. How could he not? There was a reason why Ferdinand was a leader in diplomacy, as his charisma allowed him to soothe nearly any ruffled feathers. In this instance, that included the jaded edges that Hubert bears upon himself. All those nerves seem to melt like snow on a luminous spring day, allowing for new life to begin. For change to occur.

“I suppose that you are going to claim that I am here merely as Hubert then? That we have no need for formalities?” Hubert asks, his voice coming out a bit more shaky then he intended. The methods of Ferdinand seemed to work quickly, unraveling him from the inside out with a smile and a few bats of his eyelashes.

“Indeed.” Ferdinand slips his fingers between Hubert’s own, eyes looking off to the sky for a moment. He can see a cumulation of clouds overhead. “...We are here as friends. You know that I invite you to these afternoon tea sessions personally, not as a work obligation, yes?”

“Yes.” Hubert replies quickly, and Ferdinand gives his hand a squeeze, making a shiver run down the mage’s back.

Heavens. This was far superior to that of merely holding a teacup. It felt like his hand was burning up at his touch, but he does not ever wish to let go. He could not even will himself to look downwards at their hands clasped together, as his face was already flushed enough with a heavy coating of pink. Just the heat that he felt as Ferdinand squeezed upon his hand, their fingers intimately interlocked, was enough to steal his breath away.

“I am most glad to hear that.” Ferdinand beams, reaching over to cup his cheek in his other hand. He runs his thumb across his cheekbone, feeling his own heart flutter. “...I would be disappointed if you were unable to realize how much I care for you. Not in a manner that relates to our work, but privately.”

“F-Ferdinand…” He stutters, but his body leans into that touch. He craves it terribly. Feeling Ferdinand’s fingers gently trace over his cheek while leaning over the table was far more terrifying than any battle he has ever stepped foot upon.

No words follow out of Ferdinand, as he begins to stretch over the table. He is mindful to not tip over the tea or plates, yet still inching closer towards Hubert’s face. The other gentleman finds himself slowly guiding his own face towards him, lips pressed tight as he got a stronger scent of sugar and cinnamon lingering upon Ferdinand as the space dwindled between them.

As Ferdinand glides his hand down his cheek, he pulls Hubert’s chin up towards him and tilts his head slightly to the left. His eyes begin to close as he listens to the guidance of his heart.

Just as he is about to press their lips gently together…

A droplet of water upon his shoulder causes Ferdinand to pull back. It is quickly followed by another drop. Instantly, rain began to steadily pour from the clouds above, showering upon them and their tea party. Both men gasp and pull back from one another, and Hubert nearly tips over his chair from the force of his body jerking back at the splash of cold rain.

“Quickly! We must get to cover!” Ferdinand exclaims, rising to his feet. He grabs Hubert’s hand, pulling him up from his seat. He waits for no approval of his actions, hastily running through the gardens and towards the safety of the palace walls.

The two can feel the wet squish of the grass under their feet as they dash, water pouring down upon them furiously. The sun had been swallowed up by the storm of clouds, and the blue skies turned gray and unforgiving. Luckily, there were no cracks of thunder or lightning, but the two had been quite deep in the gardens. Both of their clothes are utterly soaked, despite the hasty steps they take to try and find shelter.

Yet, Hubert realizes there's a quicker route, so he tugs Ferdinand in his direction and leads them to a quiet archway, hiding beneath the outdoor corridor. He brings them both to lean against a marble column, panting to catch their breaths from the sudden sprint that neither had been anticipating. Ignoring the gross way his clothes and hair sticks to him, Ferdinand is first to recover his stamina and looks to Hubert with wide eyes.

Despite being drenched from the downpour, he looked...beautiful.

His hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were nearly both covered like when they were back at the academy, but Ferdinand feels his heart growing fonder. Just seeing the rush of color to his face, listening to him quietly grumble as he tries to squeeze out water from his cape, and remembering his quick thinking to get them to shelter from the rain has him swooning.

“Hubert…”

“Hmm?” His voice stops when Ferdinand reaches and brushes his hair back, slicking it with the rain to clearly see his gorgeous green eyes.

Without a word, he grabs his face and pulls him down for a slow, sensual kiss. He can taste the rain upon his lips, along with remnants of the tea. He pulls back, only to press again for another. Then again. And again.

Hubert meets every kiss with passion, his mind washed out with the rain. When the sound of the water stops hitting the grass, they will need to talk. But for now, he drowns out the rest of the world, cradling Ferdinand in his arms and kissing him as the rain pours on.


	17. Nicotine on My Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand is tired of loner and rule breaker Hubert skipping out on classes, so he goes to confront him. Big mistake. 
> 
> SLIGHTLY MATURE: T rating  
> Content Warning: Smoking

It was already the fifth time this week that Hubert had gotten caught trying to smoke on school grounds, and it was only Wednesday. The senior seemed to not give a damn about being held back another year or getting in trouble with administration. Most of his teachers had given up on chasing him, as he preferred to skip class, then do his work whenever he felt like. Surprisingly, he received quite high marks, but that didn’t have much value when his truancy was at an all time high.

Yet, there was one factor that seemed to be getting on his nerves recently. That was the bubbly and persistent student council president; who’s name was Ferdinand Aegir. The redhead was constantly catching him trying to skip class or break school policy, and it was becoming rather irksome. Hubert had simply scoffed and stopped whatever “inappropriate” behavior he was performing during prior altercations with Ferdinand, but he was growing impatient with the plucky little prep. He was ruining his fun, and no one was allowed to ruin Vestra’s fun without some repercussion. 

So, it was a little past noon, and Ferdinand had the same gym class as Hubert. Their class was currently hosting class outdoors, working on running around the track. As per usual, Ferdinand finished his laps in record time, and then went to cool down by walking around the track. However, during his stroll, he caught sight of a little smoke coming from behind the bleachers, so he quickly jogged over to investigate the source.

As he approaches the source of the smoke, the scent of cigarettes fills his nostrils, and he feels the urge to cough burning in the back of his throat. He ignores the sensation as he realizes who the culprit is. His eyes take in the sight of an obscure figure, leaning against the beam of the metal bleachers with a cigarette between his lips. He sees the familiar sight of one ear uncovered from a mess of black hair, revealing far more piercings than allowed by the dress code upon the outer shell. Not to mention the others that litter the loner’s face; upon his brow, septum, and philtrum. A scandalous act of disregard for the rules, which most of the teachers have given up on trying to argue about with him.

But Ferdinand was still ever determined to pick a fight. So, he steps forward and confronts Hubert with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. 

“Excuse me, but I believe you haven’t finished your laps.” Ferdinand starts, ignoring the fact that Hubert pulls out the cigarette and blows smoke upwards into the air with a raised brow in his direction. “Skipping class is a serious offence, and so is smoking on school grounds. Not that you aren’t already aware of that, Vestra.” 

Hubert snorts at the tone of voice Ferdinand is using, looking so upset over his little party of one behind the bleachers. He flicks off a few ashes onto the ground before offering him a dry reply to his accusations. 

“Ah, my favorite little teacher’s pet. Tell me, Aegir, does it ever get tiring being so ‘good’ all the time?” He asks with genuine curiosity, taking in another deep inhale as he presses the cigarette to his lips. The sight of which causes Ferdinand’s eyes to narrow, his politeness waning in the face of such rudeness. “I assume it has to be such a drag to play nice. Don’t you ever want to live a little?” 

The question makes Ferdinand stiffen, always thrown off his groove when Hubert tries to redirect the conversation in his direction. Yet, he knows he can not be distracted so quickly, especially when Hubert was blowing more smoke right in his vicinity. Even if it wasn’t directly in his face, it was offensive enough with such blatant disrespect to him and the regulations of the school. 

“I do not have time for your games, Vestra. You must put out the cigarette immediately and return to class. No exceptions.” 

But Hubert simply smirks, holding the cigarette between his fingers as Ferdinand tries to stare him down into submission. It was a futile effort, though. The older boy shakes his head, going to slowly bring the cigarette back towards his mouth as he speaks.

“Or what, Aegir? What are you going to do about it?” He provokes him explicitly, and Ferdinand rises to meet his challenge immediately. 

“Ugh! This!” Ferdinand growls, going to grab the cigarette from his hand and throw it to the ground. He stomps it out and huffs, making sure it was completely destroyed before looking back up to see the stunned expression on the goth’s face. 

Nothing is spoken. 

Then, Hubert grabs Ferdinand by his shirt and turns them around, smacking him into the bleachers. The other makes a muffled sound of pain at the aggressive grab and thud into the metal beam, but then his voice is swallowed up when Hubert has a leg between his thighs, one hand gripping at his loose gym t-shirt, and his other hand gripping harshly at his chin. His eyes are like poison, infecting him with apprehension as they stare so intensely at this proximity. 

“That shit isn’t cheap, you know. Not that a spoiled brat like you would know.” He grumbles, squeezing his chin tighter within his hand. “Whatever. If you aren’t going to let me smoke, then give me something else to do.” 

Before Ferdinand has the opportunity to question what he means by such a statement, his mouth is devoured by Hubert. He feels the other’s lips crash onto his own, pressing with forceful intent and tilting his chin up to meet with his hungry kiss. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes wide as he was unprepared for the act. He stands frozen, heart thumping in his ribcage as Hubert doesn’t back off. He meets his lips again and again with feverish kisses until Ferdinand finally gathered enough sense to react.

And he presses back. 

He doesn’t know why. His body just reacts for him, eyes fluttering shut as the grip on his chin loosens and moves to trace up his jawline to the side of his face, gripping at his short, soft orange hair. A soft groan slips from his lips as he tries to breathe, which leaves him vulnerable for Hubert to push his tongue into his mouth. The sudden wet sensation of his ash flavored tongue has Ferdinand whining.

It’s perplexing. The taste makes him sick. It makes him want to gag as he coats the inside of his mouth with the remnants of his cigarette breath. Yet, he doesn’t punch. He doesn't push him off. In fact, he tilts his head upwards and rubs his tongue back against him in heated passion. There is something to say about the skill Hubert had with his mouth, making his knees near buckle as he’s devoured so thoroughly. If it weren't for the way Hubert grips at his shirt, he thinks he might have fallen to the grass already. 

When both pull back to breathe, Hubert doesn't dare move away any more than necessary. They two exchange air, hot breaths tickling each other’s faces as their foreheads still press against one another. 

“Surprisingly, feisty. I like that.” Hubert snickers, leaning forward to pull on his bottom lip. The whine that leaves Ferdinand’s throat stuns even Hubert, as he stops sucking on his lip and grows red in the face. 

“You taste disgusting.” He mumbles, eyes lidded with a mix of repugnance and a hesitant craving for more. 

“I hear it’s an acquired taste.” Hubert hums back, leaving it at that before sucking him back into his embrace. He finds that kissing Ferdinand was much better than listening to him nag him. He had mocked the man for his never ending blathering, but perhaps this mouth could be put to good use. 

The two spend the rest of the period with their tongues tangled in Ferdinand’s mouth, making the younger man tremble against the bleachers each time Hubert pulls at the back of his head and steals the oxygen from his lungs with his aggressive kisses. He doesn’t let up, needing something else to occupy his mouth with since his cigarette was out of commission. 

When a loud whistle blew, signaling it was time to start packing up and heading inside to change before switching classes, Ferdinand finally pushed Hubert away and wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand. His cheeks are highlighted with pink, so flushed as Hubert grins with such unchecked arrogance upon his face. 

“Oops. Guess you skipped the second half of gym, huh?” He taunts him, stepping away taking in the delicious sight of Ferdinand pressed against the bleachers. “Kind of fun, wasn’t it? Come bother me about my cigarettes again if you want to play some more, teacher’s pet.” He then gives a short nod, turning to walk behind the large line of kids heading back towards the building.

Shaking his head out of the cloud, Ferdinand stomps his foot and feels annoyed by his own foolishness to be swept up so easily. He curses Hubert in his head, finally finding the strength to move his legs as he tries to join the back of the crowd on their trip back to the locker room. 

Yet, he can’t stop biting his lip and basking in the flavor left on his tongue. The taste is bittersweet, as Ferdinand succeeded in ending his smoking, but he allowed him to skip the entirety of their class. 

Damn bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I know these aren't my best work, but if you still enjoyed, feel free to leave a kudos/comment!
> 
> Check me out on Twitter at [ MahouMiss ](https://twitter.com/MahouMiss)


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